LOST AND LETHAL by Fredrick L. Stafford

Author:Fredrick L. Stafford [Stafford, Fredrick L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

With the duffle bag slung over his right shoulder, Tariq led the way out of the ravine and down the hill.

Molka trod angrily behind him, the general shuffled resigned behind her, and behind him Jäger and Fuchs marched elated, keeping the prisoners at HK point.

Molka spoke to the back of Tariq’s head. “Let me guess, you didn’t talk to Azzur last night, and no replacement pilot is coming to fly me out of here.”

“That’s right.”

“And I assume the Germans are ex-special forces, current mercenaries?”

“A good assumption,” Tariq said.

“Ok. I know where the general’s going; what’s the depressing fate awaiting me?”

“You’ll find out when you get to ‘The Red Lion’s Den.’”

“What’s ‘The Red Lion’s Den?’” Molka said.

“Rivin’s fortress.”

“Can’t wait. So when exactly did you choose to go over to the other side?”

“I’ve only been on one side my whole life: My side.”

“You think your new friends across the border are rough on traitors? Wait until you see what we’ll do.”

“I already know,” Tariq said. “I would be given a prison sentence and then let out early. Your country is very forgiving and doesn’t use the death penalty anymore.”

Molka scowled at him. “But exceptions are sometimes made. Azzur will insist.”

“Azzur is the reason I did this. Your country’s military intelligence was almost done with me. I’ve been overexposed in Turkey, and it’s just a matter of time before I’m burned there. They were going to cut me loose with their thanks and blessing. But then Azzur made a trade with them to acquire my services.”

“And when you say Azzur made a trade to acquire your services, you mean he also acquired the blackmail information military intelligence has on you.”

“That’s right,” Tariq said. “And he can hold that over my head and send me on missions all around the world for the rest of my life if he chooses.” He glanced over his shoulder with an anguished face. “And I’m sorry you got caught up in this, but I can’t live like that. I just can’t do it, Molka.”

“Well, four-million Turkish Lira is a lot of money to a poor, broke veterinarian like me but isn’t nearly enough for you to stay on the run for a lifetime. Not from us.”

“True.” Tariq turned his face away from Molka. “But at least it’s a start.”

The group reached the hill’s bottom, stepped onto the grassy plateau, and moved toward the Cessna.

Jäger removed a two-way radio from his pocket and spoke into it in Turkish. A moment later, a dark green SUV with black and brown camouflage—driven by a red keffiyeh wearing Rivin man—moved from total concealment behind a huge rock formation just short of the plateau’s edge, crawled up and onto the airstrip, and parked aside Tariq’s and Zoran’s dead fighters’ vehicles.

Upon its arrival, Jäger took the general by the elbow, and Fuchs took Molka by the elbow and led them to it.

Jäger searched the general, only finding six cigars in his jacket’s pockets and a lighter in his pants pocket. He didn’t take them.

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